Those Charcoal Veins
by vikuyuri
Summary: Zuko needed blood; Sokka had blood. Simple. [Canon-Era Vampire AU with blood drinking, hair pulling, and a kiss.]


The door was open, but Sokka stopped at the threshold anyway and knocked on the doorframe. Despite his boasting to Aang and Katara, he was nervous about this. "Hey, jerkbender. You up?"

Zuko lay on his mattress with his hands behind his head. He didn't open his eyes at Sokka's words. "What do you want?" His voice was rougher than usual.

Sokka took a deep breath. The torches had been extinguished, but the air still smelled of smoke. The only light was the moonlight spilling from the window. Sokka said, "We didn't see you at dinner."

In the moonlight, Zuko was bone-white, and seemed thinner. His face was hollow. With his hair cut short and messy, it was easier to remember he was barely older than Sokka—and in some ways, so much younger.

"I wasn't hungry," Zuko said.

Sokka stepped into the room and shut the door carefully behind him. "You know, Aang knows a lot of about Fire Lords. He told us about your family—about what you are."

Zuko's eyes flew open then, and he jerked upright. When Sokka drew nearer, he saw that Zuko's hands were knotted in the sheets, and his jaw clenched tight. He was restraining himself. His eyes, normally so bright, had gone dark with his people's hunger, and he stared warily up at Sokka. "I'm not going to hurt any of you, if that's what you're worried about," he said quietly. "I'll deal with it until I find a blood-priest to take from."

As a general rule, Sokka preferred thinking of Zuko as a prisoner in the Western Air Temple. It was easier to conceptualize him as a captive than as a friend. But tonight, Sokka couldn't help but think of him as a _patient_. As long as he was in their custody, Zuko depended on them to survive.

Sokka liked that. Sokka was kind of scared of how much he liked that.

He shoved that thought away in favor of the task at hand. "No offense, man, but you don't look so hot. Ha—get it? Okay," he reeled it in, because Zuko wasn't even scowling at the pun, which meant he was _really_ out of it. "You've been here a week, and if everything goes according to plan, it's going to be a long-ass time before we hit civilization again. And seriously, you think you can just roll into a temple? You'll get captured in a minute."

"I can be discreet," Zuko muttered.

"Not with _that_ ," Sokka pointed, "on your face."

"Can we reschedule comedy hour until morning?" Zuko asked. "I'm tired."

He did, indeed, look like he was about to pass out.

"Argh." Sokka rubbed his hands over his eyes. This wasn't going according to plan. And they did, actually, have a plan. "Look—starting over. You're a blood-drinker. You need blood. I have blood. Simple, right?"

"No! It isn't that simple," Zuko snapped, but his dark gaze dropped unerringly to Sokka's neck. His hands tightened in the sheets.

Sokka did the counting-to-ten thing Katara had suggested. Then he sat down on the bed next to Zuko, who flinched, but didn't move away. If anything, he leaned in closer, like he couldn't help himself.

"If we're going to defeat your father, all of us have to be at our best. Possibly better than our best," Sokka said. "That includes you. So until we adopt a blood-priest or something, you'll need to drink from me."

It had to be Sokka, of course. Toph had suggested they take turns, but The Duke was too young, and Teo's condition meant he might not be able to tell when it was too much. The others were all benders, and Aang had explained that the Fire Lord's family could only drink from non-benders or firebenders.

Zuko must know that; he didn't argue the specifics of Sokka's presence. He didn't argue as Sokka sat further back on the bed, braced against the wall, and started unwinding the bandages from his left wrist.

"I'm not having you on my neck," Sokka said.

Zuko apparently couldn't admit that he needed this. He acquiesced silently, scooting up the bed towards Sokka. His dark robe gaped open at the collar. He was so pale, his skin like paper stretched over his bones. "If you're sure." His voice was quiet, each word carefully articulated. When his lips parted, his teeth were a different shape than usual. "This might…"

"Hurt?" Those _teeth_ —of course it would hurt.

Zuko scowled. He wouldn't meet Sokka's eyes. "Not that. It's… intimate."

"I see," Sokka said, though he didn't really. Aang hadn't said anything about _intimacy_. But whatever Zuko meant by that, it didn't change anything. Zuko needed blood; Sokka had blood. Simple. "It's okay. Come on, this is already the most awkward thing I've done since breakfast. Let's get it over with."

Zuko actually laughed at that, and sat beside him against the wall, at his right side. Sokka had to move his arm up to make space. He ended up half-embracing Zuko's shoulders. Sokka's cheeks heated, and his pulse sped up with—nervousness, it had to be. He was _nervous_ about cuddling up with his former enemy. Zuko's spine was arrow-straight, and his knee only barely brushed Sokka's, until he reached across for Sokka's wrist. The movement brought them flush against each other. Sokka was acutely aware of the scant layers of clothing between them, and how lithe and solid Zuko felt. He really hoped Zuko couldn't tell how warm he was getting.

"Grab my hair," Zuko said. His hands were cold against Sokka's skin. Unnaturally cold, especially for a firebender. "So you can pull me off if it's too much. I _won't_ take too much, but..."

"It's okay," Sokka said again. But yeah, he would feel better if he kept more control in this. Intellectually, he trusted Zuko to do this right—he'd been drinking blood all his life. And he could absolutely take Zuko in a close-up fight. Totally. He was pretty sure. As long as Zuko didn't firebend, or have a sword in reach, or—

Sokka shook his head and wound his free hand into Zuko's hair. It was softer than he'd expected, thick, easy to take hold of. Touching Zuko like this was strange. Sokka was so physically aware of his head moving, his shallow breathing. He saw Zuko's throat move as he swallowed. He was nervous too.

"Any day now," Sokka said.

Zuko groaned and pulled Sokka's wrist to his mouth. The bite happened in an instant—teeth slicing in, so sharp and quick there was no pain at first. Then the punctures registered, a blossoming of agony. Sokka grunted, squeezing his eyes shut. His hand was a tight fist, and his fingers tightened in Zuko's hair.

And he didn't know if Zuko moaned at _that_ , or at the taste of Sokka's blood. At the relief of new-quenched thirst. Sokka's heart hammered in his chest, pumping the blood out faster, for Zuko to drink. Zuko latched onto his heartbeat.

The pain was blurring out, replaced with heightened sensation. The unnatural pull along his veins. Zuko's cool lips on his skin, slowly warming. The weight of Zuko's body against him, no longer stiff and aloof, but melting into him, as if to draw his warmth as well as his blood.

The room was dark, but stars scattered before Sokka's eyes. As his blood flowed, he was stunned to discover he was not growing colder, or fainter. Instead, the shared bite heated them together. Fire sparked along his nerves, racing all the way through him, and damn, it must have been a while since he'd been so close to anyone, because he was _responding_. He couldn't help a groan, leaning his head back against the stone wall. Zuko's answering whine did nothing to quell his growing hardness.

He wondered if this was too much. He wanted this to draw out forever, but he wasn't far gone enough to forget the danger. And, damn. Maybe they should stop before he came in his pants.

Or maybe—just a bit more—

It was Zuko who pulled away. He disengaged with a fresh sting, then sealed his lips again over Sokka's wrist. Magic tingled, and as Zuko released Sokka's arm, the pain was already fading. The bleeding had stopped, and the punctures sealed quickly.

Zuko slumped back against Sokka, breathing heavily. They were both panting. Sokka's fingers loosened in Zuko's hair, stroking instead of tugging.

"Wow," Sokka said, because he had to say _something_.

But his voice broke whatever spell of serenity they were under. Zuko stiffened and slid out from under his arm. "I'm sorry," Zuko said, "I mean, thanks, you didn't—"

Sokka caught his shoulder. "Whoah, wait a second, hold it with the dine and dash."

Zuko stared. "You wanted to get it over with," he said. His lower lip was smudged with Sokka's blood. His hair was a wreck; his eyes wide and glassy.

Sokka was fiercely proud of having done that to him. And he couldn't look away. And he couldn't help leaning forward.

That was okay. Out of all the crazy shit Sokka had ever done, kissing Zuko didn't even make the top ten.

What was _really_ crazy was Zuko kissing him back. That nerve-sizzling heat had to go both ways; Zuko opened up immediately, hungrily. He tasted of blood. Sokka's blood.

It was over quickly. It had to be; they couldn't escape logic any longer than that. Again, Zuko broke away first, sliding all the way out of bed and onto his feet. "This is a bad idea," he said. "We don't even like each other."

Sokka got awkwardly to his feet. He was still achingly hard, and he really should be embarrassed about that, but he was too fascinated with the way Zuko couldn't quite make eye contact, but couldn't quite look away. He was grateful his own brown skin didn't show a blush nearly as well as Zuko's flaming pink face.

"It's totally a bad idea," he agreed. "Terrible mistake. Absolute catastrophe. Let's do it again sometime?"

Zuko made eye contact for just a moment. He looked like a completely different person than he had when Sokka came in. His cheeks were fuller, the dark circles gone from under his eyes. He looked alive. "I need blood once a week," he said. "If you're willing."

"You got it," Sokka said, heading for the door. "Just let me know when you need room service." He winked and pointed as Zuko groaned—definitely just covering a laugh, he knew Zuko really found him hilarious—and with that, Sokka dashed away.

He hoped he didn't run into anyone in the halls. He needed to reach his own room and jerk off _immediately_.

* * *

 _Title from "Playing With Fire."_


End file.
